


The Haunted

by Slantedlight (BySlantedlight)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BySlantedlight/pseuds/Slantedlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fancies in the dark...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haunted

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/byslantedlight/pic/006wpc9s/)

There was a window bricked up, in the Old Parish Poorhouse, and doors that had once been there. Bodie had glanced up as they shifted their gear from car to room to room, and then he hadn't thought any more about them, but now he tossed and turned in the rattling bed and could not sleep, and they were eyes not watching him, though he knew they were there, and they were mouths that could not speak.

 _Fancies in the dark_ his gran would have said, but she would tut around him so that he lost himself in her night-time noises, and forgot about the other sounds, the shadows that moved and then stilled when she wasn't looking. _You're too old for that, my Will, too big a boy, my lad..._

He was an even bigger boy these days, and the trouble was that now he knew the shadows were real, knew that they moved with their maws agape, waiting until his attention had slipped, until they could reach out their darkling arms and take the things he loved until he was swallowed whole...

In the room across from his, a board creaked, then another, there were footsteps down the corridor, and then a hushed trickle, though it was loud in the night. If he listened carefully he would hear Doyle pulling up his zip, the shuffle on floorboards as he turned around to wash his hands, then footsteps back to the surveillance room. 

Night-time noises. 

Bodie lay in bed and thought about the monsters that were true, even though he was a big boy now, because it wasn't so long since Doyle had nearly given himself up to the gaping mouths that whispered to him of dark-time secrets, that wanted to lead him to bricked-up worlds where Bodie couldn't follow.

When he didn't hear any more noises, he got up and pattered down to the kitchen, lifted the top of the Aga stove and put the kettle on for two cups of tea.

 

_October 2010_


End file.
